


Before All Hell Breaks Loose

by tjstar



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Ghosts, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Sickfic, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Time Travel, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 13:25:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: He feels solight.The scene changes, the scenery is as bad as it’s supposed to be; Klaus watches himself, he’s an outsider to his own death now, peering over Dave’s shoulder. Their matted hair sticks to their busted foreheads, helmets askew. Dave is sobbing and screamingmedic, medic,but it’s too late.





	Before All Hell Breaks Loose

There’s a ghostly carnival hosted in the A Shau Valley. The spirits are hanging off the trees, lurking in trenches and behind the tents. They’re bawling their sunken eyes out, begging for satisfaction, wanting their war to be over although they’ve lost their lives already. It’s hard to understand their jumbled pleas, Klaus stopped trying a while ago.

“Attack! Fire!”

He will never get used to the rattle of a gunfire. Worst of all, Ben is nowhere to be found as if he’s been fired from being his guardian angel. 

But now here’s Dave.

Dave, with his kind eyes and strong hands, with a warm smile and a fearless soul. And Klaus is in awe, in love in the middle of a gunfight which is the only place, the only timeline where he feels useful. He’s being useful. His routine here is an endless vortex of fights, blood, and ghosts of the newcomers, and everything’s happening too fast. They stumble across the road with sobriety nagging at Klaus’ guts, a heavy, painful lump settling there like a snake. He’s not dealing with the heat very well, and cravings hit him rather suddenly even after all of the months of being clean. It has never been easy, not even now, when their relationship with Dave is somewhat established. Drugs are _ still _ not so far out of his reach. 

They are forced to stop twice for Klaus to puke in the bushes. Maybe it’s just a sunstroke. 

“It’s gonna get better,” Dave says. “Trust me.”

And Klaus trusts him.

Other soldiers in their troop don’t seem to notice anything suspicious about Klaus’ condition, and their blindness is a blessing — Klaus hates answering inappropriate questions. Klaus hates the insects creeping under his skin at nights, freaking mosquitos and other bloodsuckers. The war is a bloodsucker itself. 

They’re occasionally sharing the stories about their past lives; Klaus’ tales are the oddest, he always gets comments like _ “what do you mean, six siblings? That’s unreal, pal! So it’s like, a never-ending line to the bathroom in the mornings? Fighting for shitting first? You must be real good at holding your piss for hours.” _ They laugh, and Klaus doesn’t mention the mansion and that he used to take long baths not even bothering the others. Dave sincerely enjoys Klaus’ _ fairytales _ when they’re sitting outside of their tents and polishing their rifles. Nobody asks him why he was only wearing a bloodied bath towel when he first appeared.

This is terrifyingly domestic. 

Klaus is grateful that he hasn’t been turned to his teenage self like Five while traveling back in time. 

*** 

It’s raining hard when they’re crawling down muddy trenches; they’re getting attacked from the sky, the world is turning upside down.

“Careful!” 

Klaus’ helmet is knocked off his head; he’s dumbfounded as he bends over to pick it up. Another grenade explodes, shrapnel flying like hailstones, and Klaus is swept off his feet, Dave’s chest is pressed to his back. 

“Shit,” Klaus exhales. “Thank you.”

Dave rolls off of him, stammering out,

“That was a close one.”

Klaus leans against his side when the fire around them subsides; he’s suddenly so weak, tired of constant commotion. He struggles to get up on his unsteady feet, Dave holds him by his elbow as they stagger back to the tent. 

They lost a soldier today, his ghost is hovering over his bloodied body. 

“Klaus, help,” he whispers. “Why?”

Klaus rubs his puffy eyes with his fists and turns away from him; a line of spirits stands by the side of their own graves. They keep reaching their hands for Klaus, and he hugs his own shoulders, ignoring fear and dismay.

He’s stuck just like them.

Nowhere to go, as if that haunted mausoleum from his childhood keeps chasing him. 

Another gunshot merges together with thunder. In the jungles, Klaus spots a barrel of the rifle ready to spit out a bead of death. 

“Dave! Run, run, run, _ schnell!” _

Klaus doesn’t think twice before jumping towards Dave and shoving him aside and into the trench. There’s the flame burning Klaus’ back in between his shoulder blades, the bullet rips itself out through his sternum, tearing his tissues. He falls into a puddle of soil, subconsciously trying to hold himself upright with one hand not to get an infection into a fresh wound. The fight is violent, somebody runs past him, and then there’s Dave’s face above his. He’s as white as a sheet.

Dave keeps shouting, Klaus is bad at lip-reading; he doesn’t hear anything except his own slowing down heartbeat.

He feels so _ light. _

The scene changes, the scenery is as bad as it’s supposed to be; Klaus watches himself, he’s an outsider to his own death now, peering over Dave’s shoulder. Their matted hair sticks to their busted foreheads, helmets askew. Dave is sobbing and screaming _ medic, medic, _ but it’s too late. Blood spurts out of the hole in Klaus’ chest, like an erupting volcano, spilling onto Dave’s trembling fingers. Dave caresses his cheek, slapping it slightly. Klaus is a _ ghost, _ he can’t do anything, can’t comfort him or drop a joke — not anymore. Now he knows how Ben used to feel. Helpless, hopeless with nothing to offer. Klaus can only follow Dave as he scoops him up into his arms. His skinny limbs dangle lifelessly in the air, facial traits sharpen, and his chest stays still. Dave runs towards the tent, almost falling as he trips over the black briefcase tucked between their rucksacks; Dave accidentally kicks it open. 

His short yelp is drowned out by a muffled sizzle as the blue flash releases itself from its trap. 

*** 

When Klaus opens his eyes, he finds himself sprawled across the hay, his spine is all rigid as he moves. All the colors are gone, drained, only the shades of black and white in sight. He sits up, dizzy all of the sudden as he realizes he’s not alone in this limbo. 

There’s a girl standing a few feet away from him, wearing a flowery dress and a straw hat. Her face seems strangely familiar, but Klaus can’t think straight. 

“Hello there,” she says in a casual tone.

Klaus shows her his HELLO palm.

“Wow. You’re so quiet,” she teases, fumbling with the laces on her dress. “It’s weird to see you there sober for once.”

She looks sad. Devastated even. Klaus would have said that she’d been crying too, but maybe she had her own selfish reasons for that. He’s still wearing his too-loose military pants, heavy combat boots and a bloodied vest. He rubs his itchy cheeks, there are the streaks of eyeliner and dirt on his palms. Maybe his makeup skills upset her, who knows. 

“What am I doing here? Where’s Dave?”

“You’re not getting any smarter, I see,” she sighs. “Should’ve gained some experience already.”

Klaus cackles in response, tears bubbling in his throat. But you can’t cry in the afterlife, it seems. 

“Gonna save me then?” he asks.

She eyes him intently. 

“Not me.”

“What?”

“You’ll find out. It’s time to go.”

Klaus takes a step towards her.

“Not gonna give me any instructions?”

“The time’s running out.”

She snaps her fingers, and the darkness covers him once again.

***

“He’s alive! Oh my God, he’s still alive!” Klaus is vaguely aware that he’s hacking up bloody mucus onto somebody’s collarbone. “Somebody! Help me, help me, please!”

There’s a rush, a clatter of heels against marble tiles, and then Klaus’ head falls backwards as his neck gives up.

***

The pain smacks him like a whip as soon as he blinks his eyes open. His head is turned to the side, almost glued to the pillow. Ben is sitting on the windowsill, blurred since Klaus can’t get the fog out of his eyes. He’s stripped off his blood-stained uniform, covered with a gray blanket; his underwear is still on, which makes the whole situation less degrading. But he’s sick, he shouldn’t be thinking of it at all. 

“Welcome back,” Ben greets him.

It’s been a while. 

Klaus has never been happier to see a ghost. He’d greet his deceased brother decently, but a bout of seasickness overcomes him; Klaus coughs until he retches, throwing up ashes and soot over the side of his cot.

“Hey, hey, easy,” a soothing voice comes from his left. “Klaus? Can you hear me?”

“Jesus,” Klaus groans at the ache scraping his parched throat. “They really managed to fix me without turning me to an ape… Screw you, Luther.” 

He chokes again.

Maybe he’s still too dazed due to being unconscious for — so long? How long? — that he considers a hand atop of his own a hallucination. 

“Klaus,” Ben says. “Talk to him. Otherwise he’s gonna think you’re going crazy. He’s not a ghost, I swear.”

Klaus drops his head back onto the pillow and finally looks at _ somebody _ who’s been around all this time. His savior, his soulmate. 

“Dave?” Klaus doesn’t believe his own eyes, his own words. “Dave,” he repeats.

His vision sharpens, he recognizes the room he’s lying in; this is the Academy, the infirmary. There’s the catheter sticking out of the back of his GOODBYE hand, the IV dripping fluids into his system. He would prefer to get more morphine, but an acute pain keeps him awake, at least. And he can’t get enough of the sensation of Dave patting his shoulders, giving him one worried smile after another.

“Stay with me,” Dave says.

And Klaus laughs at how ridiculous it might look, raucously and desperately; his body seizes in a twist of hysteria until he vomits again. Dave is not disgusted, holding a blue bucket with one hand and rubbing Klaus’ back with another. His chest is bandaged, his ribs are pulsing with pain, there’s too much sterile gauze with shapeless red blotches on it. But his heart is still beating, his lungs are still functioning properly, and his mind — 

He lost his mind in trenches. 

Klaus gets a flashback and spits a mouthful of bile into the bucket. 

“A contusion can to that,” Dave nods. “I’m gonna go get… That lady who patched you up.”

Klaus wipes his mouth with the corner of the bedsheet.

“No, wait. That briefcase…”

“Ah, that bulky thing. I didn’t notice it at first, but then I opened it. My foot got stuck somewhere in its depths, and… Next thing I remember is running down this hall. Jeez, there was so much blood,” Dave swallows hard. “I thought I lost you. But your wound is barely a scratch now?” 

Klaus doesn’t miss a bit of his speech. _ Barely a scratch _ sounds good.

“I’m not that easy to get rid of, huh? You’re my hero.”

“I left the briefcase in the foyer, by the way. A devilish thing, truly,” Dave shudders. 

“Oh, you’re telling me.” 

Klaus drops his forearm over his eyes. 

He gets woozy for a second, and when he comes to again he sees both Grace and Pogo entering the room. Dave doesn’t look impressed by the robotic woman and this talking and walking butler-ape, just letting them take a glance at the gunshot wound in Klaus’ chest. They apparently had a quick conversation while Klaus was still out of everything. 

Pogo says,

“Master Dave donated some blood for you.” 

Oh right. They have the same blood type, according to their dog tags. Dave’s shirt sleeve is rolled up, there’s a pinprick mark in the crook of his elbow. Klaus is too exhausted to express his emotions, but he manages to smile with the corner of his mouth. Dave understands.

Grace peels the bandages off to change them. Gauze sticks to a burnt flesh, so Klaus closes his eyes and clenches his teeth to prevent himself from both weeping and throwing up. Grace keeps humming an old German song she used to sing to him when he was a kid. But well, _ all _ the German ghosts seemed to like that song too so they were always gathering there to listen. 

“You’re gonna have a pretty little scar there, my warrior,” she chimes. “My brave boy!”

She sounds like she’s proud of him for once. _ Screw you, Diego, _ Klaus thinks. 

Dave is still a little confused of being transferred straight to 2019 from 1968, and Klaus mentally promises himself that he’s gonna help Dave reach for his family and explain everything. The time is flowing differently there, which means Dave’s parents got his last letter just three days ago, Klaus remembers. Hopefully, they’re not gonna think he’s dead or missing while he’s hanging out with the Hargreeves. 

“I’m not ready to go back,” Klaus whimpers, squeezing Dave’s hand way too tightly. 

And Dave says,

“We don’t have to.”

Wow, that was easy.

Now Klaus only has to tell him that the stolen briefcase originally belonged to a pair of time-traveling sickos.

***

Two of his ribs are broken, and there’s the echo of explosions in his ears. Klaus lies in bed high on pain when his siblings visit him; just _ three _ of them, because — quelle surprise — Vanya went missing. And because Five got wasted in the library the night prior. So there’s apparently no chance that they stopped the Apocalypse while Klaus was _ busy. _

“First of all, what the hell happened?” asks Diego. 

Klaus lets out a chuckle. 

“War, brother dearest. War happened,” he replies somewhat sarcastically.

Luther is the one to encourage him in his trademark clumsy style. 

“Well, you still have some time to recover and sober up before the world ends.”

“No shit,” Diego elbows Luther’s side. “Are you like, immortal?”

Klaus shrugs.

“No idea,” then he remembers one important detail. “That lady cop?..”

“She’s fine,” Diego cuts him off. “And… I think we have to start working on our family b-bonding or something. You know, not to let any of us run away anymore. To the war. In Vietnam. In the sixties.”

Klaus lets out a sigh of relief. He’d joke that he’s blinking away his sentimental tears, but the pain his injuries produce makes his tears _ real_. Klaus plays it off by scratching his eyelids.

“I’m sure Vanya can give us her therapist’s information.”

Dave doesn’t leave the chair by Klaus’ bed; Klaus suspects that he’s simply sure that his family is insane. He’ll adjust. It’s good that he can’t meet sir Reginald. 

“Seems like we got one more member to our team,” Allison half jokes, pointing at Dave. “What’s your superpower?” she cocks her head to her shoulder.

“He can deal with my quirks,” Klaus coughs up.

And Dave says, in all old-fashioned seriousness,

“I protect the ones who’s important to me.”

And Klaus falls for him even harder. 

*** 

Five bursts into the infirmary later in the day; he teleports into the room without a warning. He’s hangover, skin pale and hair ruffled. Klaus can relate. Dave is still calm as he outstretches his hand for Five to shake. Five reacts to that, squeezing Dave’s palm with as much strength as he can muster. 

“Whoever shot you, they didn’t want you to be dead," Five frowns. “Otherwise you’d be dead.”

_ Oh my, I was dead, _ Klaus wants to clarify. Then he decides against. 

“We can run ballistics,” Dave offers. 

Klaus looks at him lovingly.

“Nice move, Detective Katz.”

“Which one of you is going to travel back to the sixties _ again _ to find the bullet?” Five snarls. “I wonder.” 

Klaus shrugs him off.

“Nevermind, Davey. Five only looks like a kitten, but he’s an old soul.” 

“But I _ live _ in the sixties,” Dave says, but Five blinks himself out of the room already. “Um. He’s such a nice guy.”

Propped up with a bunch of pillows, Klaus presses his palm to his chest.

“Don’t you dare get back to the sixties without me!” he wheezes affectedly.

“I’m not gonna leave,” Dave says with a soft smile. “Not until we save the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Radiohead - Exit Music (For A Film)


End file.
